


It was well known to him

by theseriousmoonlight (basil_raphaelite)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basil_raphaelite/pseuds/theseriousmoonlight
Summary: In which the lovers extend their repressed wings and unravel under each others' touch.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	It was well known to him

“Dearest?” the angel’s voice sang.

Crowley swung his head round the corner of the pantry with eyebrows raised and a soft smile. His eyes fell on Aziraphale curled up on the sofa with a book on his lap.

  
“Whatever are you getting up to in there?” Zira said with a small sideways grin.

Crowley stepped into the parlor and straightened himself up to his full height. As he handed the angel a mug of peppermint tea out of nowhere, he undid the offwhite apron around his waist and left it hanging about his neck. “ _I_ am making a cake.” Crowley said very proudly.

  
Aziraphale beamed. “I never thought you were the cake type, Crowley.” he said, absolutely brimming with contentment. Crowley flumped down on the sofa beside him and tossed the apron in the general direction of the kitchen.

  
“Well, I suppose I’ll prove you wrong when it comes out of the oven. How are you feeling?”

  
Aziraphale took a deep breath in, and slowly let it out. “I’m… I’m very much better, my dear. I’ve never experienced before anything quite as emotionally potent as last night. I just felt so afraid and isolated… and I can hardly say how grateful I am for your company.”

  
“Zira… I understand how you were feeling. Six thousand years is a long time to feel alone. But you were the one brave enough to pick up the phone last night and ask me to come over. I’m very glad you did. ” He reached out a hand to cup Aziraphale’s round face. “You needn’t ever feel ashamed for a little companionship, angel.”

  
Aziraphale’s kind eyes filled with the purity of his smile. He blushed a little on the tip of his nose when he remembered cuddling with Crowley the night before. The angel had felt very alone, and Crowley did everything in his power that night to lessen the heaviness. They drank cocoa and curled up in Aziraphale’s plush bed. They watched the stars pass, they spoke about nothing and everything.

The warm memory of Crowley made him glow with clarity and contentment. The demon’s own smile was a sight to be seen. It lit up his golden eyes and they caught the soft white light filtering into the room. They both felt so very at peace.

  
Crowley gently brushed one of the angel’s golden-white curls behind his ear, and leaned down to take his own shoes off so they could cuddle comfortably on the sofa. Aziraphale took a sip of his peppermint tea and set it down on the end-table, very grateful that Crowley had thought to get it for him. As the demon tossed off his other shoe, Zira placed a hand on his back and gently rubbed up and down his spine as, with his other hand, he found his bookmark and set it aside with his novel. There were more important things to be done at the moment. Crowley hummed mildly. “You are so fucking gentle, angel, and I love it.” He straightened back up as Aziraphale chuckled, “Just in my nature, darling.”

  
“Is that so?” the demon grinned and, as quick as a flash, he snatched Zira up into his arms and tickled him mercilessly, as the angel melted into a giggling, squirming fit, eventually collapsing with his arms flung about Crowley’s neck, heaving for breath between laughs. Crowley nuzzled his face into Zira’s shoulder to muffle his own joyful laughing.

He wrapped his arms round the angel’s waist and laid down lengthwise on the sofa, so the angel was curled up on his chest. At a wave of his hand, he miracled the sofa just a tad bit wider, so they could both lay comfortably without feeling as if they were going to tumble off the edge at any moment.

  
Aziraphale propped himself up by his elbow and beamed at the demon beside him. “Don’t let your cake overcook, my dear, I’d rather not have any fires in my kitchen.” he grinned, half-jokingly.

  
“Oh, don’t worry, angel, it shouldn’t be done for a little while. How would you feel about helping me frost it when it comes out?”

“Oh, I’d love to! That sounds wonderful Crowley.”

“It’s a deal, then.” Crowley grinned as he ruffled Zira’s hair. “Now, I’ve got a question for you.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

“When was the last time you let your wings out, angel?”

“Oh, dear me…” Aziraphale sighed, looking up at the ceiling and trying to remember. “I suppose if I can’t recall, then it’s been too long.”

“Yes, indeed,” Crowley tutted and half sat up. “Why don’t you let them out, and I’ll brush them for you?”

“Oh, Crowley, only if you want to, it’s a lot to ask, you certainly don’t have-”

“Angel.” He stopped him with a meaningful gaze. “I asked, did I not?’

“Yes,” Aziraphale laughed gently and gave in, “thank you dear.”

Crowley sat up on the sofa, but Aziraphale got to his feet, facing away from his lover. He cleared his throat, straightened his back, and willed his wings out from the ethereal plane. And as soon as they weren’t, they were there. The angel shook his curly hair and tossed his wings to shake out whatever dust they accumulated.

Crowley was struck by their breadth and grace, but it was obvious to him that Zira was uncomfortable, even embarrassed. “Angel…” Crowley’s low voice eased. It was barely more than a whisper. Zira turned around and tucked the tips of his wings behind him, so they appeared their smallest.

The demon’s sympathetic eyes were waiting for him. “I’m not going to judge you, love. You’re not alone.” As Crowley said this, he willed his own wings into existence, shook them like Aziraphale did, and he took the angel’s hand. “It’s okay. We’ll just take it slow, yeah?”

The angel let his breath out, and he nodded with a small smile. “I trust you, Crowley. Thank you. I just get nervous sometimes, you know?”

  
The demon rose to his feet, still holding Zira’s hand in his own. He caressed the back of the angel’s neck and kissed his forehead. And he whispered, soft as rain, “I know. You don’t have to hide anymore.”

The fire on the hearth beamed and the last light of the day disappeared, as Aziraphale leaned into Crowley sitting behind him on the floor. The demon methodically combed through his off-white feathers, first with his fingers to undo any tangles or matts, and then with a soft brush to get the feathers smooth and shiny. The angel’s full wings were vast, but Crowley was patient when it came to things like this.

He started at the very tips of his primaries, taking the feathers gingerly in his palm and stroking the delicate bones beneath while he brushed the soft plumes through. He was quite good at it, and Aziraphale felt extraordinarily relaxed. Between the warm crackling of the fire, the low light of the winter’s evening, and Crowley’s gentle attention to every part of his wings which were so infrequently touched, he felt that all his anxiety from the previous hours had fallen away. His breathing was full and tranquil, and his eyes fluttered closed with a contented sigh.

As the demon worked his way steadily towards Aziraphale’s lesser converts and scapulars, where the shortest feathers and most sensitive muscle was, he could feel the wings twitching and tensing under his fingertips. He knew how unaccustomed Aziraphale’s body was to this kind of attention, so he resolved himself then to do it really, really well- as well as he knew how, which, considering the amount of fantasising he had done about making Aziraphale feel heavenly, was very well indeed. He combed through the feathers nearest the angel’s shoulder blades wth his fingers, and unavoidably, since the feathers there were so short, his fingernails lightly grazed the sensitive muscle underneath. A shiver ran up Aziraphale’s spine, and he felt goosebumps raise on his arms. He did his best to stifle a high-pitched groan that escaped his throat, but Crowley heard it.

  
Crowley wanted to hear it. He was greedy, he had to grant that to himself.

  
He positioned himself directly behind Aziraphale, so he could feel the light pressure of the angel’s rounded back against his chest. And he continued, almost mercilessly, grazing his fingernails over the muscles of Zira’s wing, gently kneading and massaging under the feathers. He knew exactly what he was doing to him. Crowley all but drank up the soft, breathy moans now unhindered from the angel. His utterances made Crowley’s own wings twitch, and he allowed himself to extend them as widely as his lovers’.

  
Aziraphale tipped back his head and a wanton sigh escaped his lips. He let Crowley’s body heat and the feeling of the demon’s hands entirely consume him. Steadily and methodically, his fingers traced up and down his converts and scapulars. The glide of his fingers made Aziraphale shiver. This feeling was utterly addicting. Crowley’s fingers sank as deep as he dared into the angel’s short downy feathers and scraped against the vulnerable flesh, and he spoke in a low and gentle whisper.

“When was the last time you let yourself feel like this, angel?” His voice was dripping with sensuality. Although he intended it, he did not expect it to come out of his mouth quite so bold.

Aziraphale struggled to form words as Crowley continued to graze his fingers over his most sensitive wing muscles. “Not since Paris, Crowley.” He gasped. “You remembered… you remembered that my wings can be rather the erogenous zone.”

  
“How could I forget how you melted in my arms?” Crowley continued in his soft whisper. It was so low that it was something akin to a growl, but not quite there, and that was the way he wanted it. He pressed himself against Aziraphale, let him feel his warmth, and ran his hands along the top of the angel’s white wings, from his shoulder blades to the very tip of the last primaries. His own midnight wings twitched again.

Aziraphale sighed contentedly, but it caught in his throat at the feeling of Crowley’s legs wrapping around his own from behind, locking them together. The demon’s hands found Aziraphale’s waist, and his mouth met the angel’s ear. He bit down ever so softly.

  
The angel drew in a sharp breath and could not help but smile in pleasure. “Crowley…. mmmhh… I am enjoying this very, very much, but…. mmh…. didn’t you have a cake in the oven?”

  
Crowley went limp and his bravado disappeared. “Oh bollocks.”

  
The angel broke into unabashed laughter, and Crowley could not help but follow him. They both got up on shaky legs, still giggling wildly. With both their wings still in the present plane of existence and nether of them with any plans to return them soon, the lovers stumbled to the kitchen in bouts of laughter to survey Crowley’s disaster.

  
A few fat snowflakes clung to the outside glass of the small kitchen window against the deep blue-black of SoHo’s twightlight. Crowley sidled his fairly enormous wings through the cozy kitchen doorframe and Aziraphale followed. Even as small as they both tried to fold their wings behind them, between the two of them they took up most of the space in the small pantry. Crowley opened the oven and, upon witnessing the smoke billowing out, Zira squeezed past him to open the window, and frigid clean air came pouring in.

As he chortled, Crowley retrieved the cake pan from the oven with his bare hands. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry,” Aziraphale sighed.  
“Ah, it’s no matter, angel. No shame in trying again tomorrow.” He snapped his fingers and the smoldering hunk of cake, along with all the smog it sent into the kitchen, were gone, and Aziraphale’s cake pan was as clean as new.

“Are your hands alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale said cautiously.

  
“Oh, I’m fine, angel. One of the small benefits of being a demon.” Crowley replied with a cheeky grin. Zira took his hands gingerly, and they were alarmingly but pleasantly warm. “After all,” Crowley started, as he wound one arm round the small of the angel’s back and one underneath his legs, and gathered him up off the ground. “it’s the reason I can touch you!”

  
Through his exclamation of surprise and his wide smile, Aziraphale giggled. “You are such an old-fashioned flatterer, Crowley.”

  
The demon strode out of the kitchen and into the dim parlor with his angel in his arms, both their wings brushing each other on the doorframe. “Really now. I would argue that there’s nothing old-fashioned about me.”

  
All Aziraphale could do was beam at him. Crowley looked gorgeous. His short hair was ruffled and his folded wings framed his face. He didn’t seem burdened at all with Aziraphale in his arms. The angel was suddenly overcome by a playful and wanton desire, and he could not help but thinking how much he wanted to make Crowley feel as good as the demon had made him feel. Tentatively, he reached up and stroked the arched joint of Crowley’s wing, and in the soft light he could see the demon shudder and blush a rosy pink. His cheeky grin had fallen away, and he now gazed upon the angel in his arms with wonder. His voice fell to a bare, soft whisper. “What next?”

  
The firelight danced in Aziraphale’s eyes as he wrapped his arms about the demon’s neck and tangled one hand in his coppery hair. Ever so softly he replied, “Whatever feels right.”

  
As naturally as gravity, their lips met, for a gentle and lingering kiss. It was meaningful and pure, and it sent a rush of warm life through them both. The demon explored Aziraphale’s adoring lips, and he grew more daring and hungry. He felt the angel’s want grow more intense, and with him still secure in his arms, without stopping to break the starving kiss, Crowley ascended the old wooden stairs to the bedroom, for it was well known to him.

**Author's Note:**

> more to come~


End file.
